


Terrors of the Heart

by StrawberryMoon9



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Blow Jobs, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-08
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-10-06 22:47:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17354060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrawberryMoon9/pseuds/StrawberryMoon9
Summary: Yao indulges in his long-held fantasies about Ivan, and pays the price. RoChu.





	Terrors of the Heart

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Ochi Chernye](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4578357) by [Mimizuku9](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mimizuku9/pseuds/Mimizuku9). 



> Author's Note: I'm not sure how conventional this is, but here you go - fanfic of a fanfic! This is basically just a "what if the sexual tension snapped after chapter 11"-type scenario, and the results are, naturally, psychologically harrowing.
> 
> There will be references to blood and carnage, and Yao being a horny edgelord in general. So! Buckle up folks and I hope you enjoy.

_“Your eyes were so wide, so cautious of everything. You were scared of me.”_

_Something stirred in Yao’s chest, anticipating that even here in this dimly lit, death-cloaked room, Ivan could see through him as if he was as transparent as moonlight._

_“And now?”_

***

The sheets had been ice-cold when Yao had climbed into bed. An hour later, curled up and shivering still, he lay wide awake, listening to howling winds and the distant sounds of boots on floorboards, bottle and glass clinking as Ivan presumably took his late-night drink in that morbid little room Yao was forbidden to enter.

He shifted his legs under the sheets, restless. He had expected that Ivan would be trying to sleep by now and would have soon given up and snuck into Yao’s bed for comfort. But tonight the drinking was going on for much longer, and with guilt Yao knew his foolish needles were to blame. He only wanted to please Ivan, to make him something beautiful out of the bloodshed and screams of agony surrounding them – to give Ivan more reason to smile in that fond way.

Ivan’s boots were thundering now, trudging across moaning floorboards towards Yao’s room. His pulse quickened as he listened to those footsteps slowing down, door creaking open slowly and Ivan’s drunken lips humming softly. A heavy weight pressed into the mattress behind him, and already his heart was pounding, beating with such force that he felt it might leap to his throat and choke him. This was hardly the first time Ivan had climbed into his bed driven by night terrors and guilt, but lately it was doing something strange to Yao. He dreaded the thought of Ivan discovering that he’d been getting hard even with the slightest shift of Ivan’s weight on the bed, that it made him think of how easily Ivan could pin him down and have his way, how delightfully terrifying it would be.

Ivan chuckled deeply, as if hearing these thoughts. “It’s past your bedtime, _myshka_. What’s keeping you up so late?”

Yao froze, not sure what had given him away. He didn’t dare roll over, not with Ivan’s breath so warm and close to the nape of his neck. The mattress creaked as Ivan leaned up on his elbow, hovering over. His cold fingers brushed the hair from Yao’s face, tracing from temple to jaw. Yao could almost sense the hazy smile on Ivan’s lips, feel the wintry iciness surrounding him despite it.

“You’re not sulking, are you?”

Yao pursed his lips at the question. Sulking? It was Ivan who had retreated from his touch earlier this evening, Ivan who stayed completely silent on the drive back. Ivan who drank himself half-blind and was now toying with Yao like nothing had happened. But it was all because of Yao, because of his silly attempt to impress Ivan, only to end up causing him pain.

“Sorry.” Yao tensed as Ivan leaned closer to hear this. “I went too far. I hurt you.”

“Yao…” Ivan was chuckling strangely now, the sound fond and dark all at once – beast and innocence put together. His firm grip kneaded the softness of Yao’s arm, hard enough in a way that went straight to Yao’s cock, stiffening at the thought of being bruised so affectionately. “ _Myshka_ , you sweet little thing. I know you didn’t mean to…”

Yao exhaled sharply – in relief at hearing these words, maybe even in exhilaration at being touched this way, like he was something Ivan could play with.

“I’ll make it up to you, I promise,” Yao said. His eyelids were fluttering now with the way Ivan’s hand was caressing firmly up and down his back, following the curve of his spine and the slopes of his shoulders. With a low hum, Ivan snaked his arm around Yao’s waist and yanked him in. Before Yao could even gasp his lips were crushed by Ivan’s, his vodka-laced tongue pushing in deep to silence whatever feeble little moan escaped. His lips were warm and soft, even as they bruised, pushing hard as if to see if Yao would take it, if he would resist. Yao couldn’t, even if he wanted to. All of Ivan’s weight was pinning him down into the mattress, urging him to tilt up his hips for friction, for reassurance that whatever he did, Ivan would push back down and keep him in his place.

Ivan’s mouth barely pulled away, their lips still teasingly brushing together when he murmured: “There is one thing you can do, _myshka_ …” His lips curved, his hum like the pleasured purr of a cat having caught its prey. “A few things, actually…”

Yao swallowed, his head swimming with the thickness of Ivan’s cock rubbing up against him. For a long time he’d secretly and guiltily wondered how Ivan’s cock might fit in him – in his hand, in his mouth, in him entirely and stuffing him completely. It was with all the effort he could muster that he spoke without gasping with each teasing, miniscule thrust: “Let me use my mouth first.”

Ivan chuckled lowly and nipped at his bottom lip. “You _are_ using your mouth, _da?_ ”

“No, I meant…” Yao swallowed again, his face growing hot.

He was interrupted with another drowning kiss, and though his breath had been stolen he moaned with the pleasure of having this moment, of even just sharing the same intimate warmth. His heart was left pounding when Ivan pulled away. “I meant to suck you off,” Yao panted, tentatively clawing at Ivan’s shirt when a strange silence had begun to settle. “Please.”

Ivan’s expression seemed to have sobered up; the warm, drunken smile was no longer there, and his touch, now light, traced down from Yao’s throat to his heaving chest. “I’ll allow it,” Ivan said, seeming to drink in for a moment the sight of Yao lying there, before sitting up on the edge of the bed and unzipping his trousers. “Come here, _myshka_.”

Yao got to his knees in the space between Ivan’s legs, his pulse quickening at the sight of his cock, half-hard and somehow thicker than Yao had imagined. Ivan wrapped his hand firmly around the nape of his neck, bringing him closer so that the tip grazed Yao’s lips. Yao parted his mouth, taking the tip in and lapping at it, his eyelids starting to feel heavy with pleasure already as he heard Ivan’s content hums. He took in more of it, letting its warmth slide against the softness of his tongue, its girth filling his mouth up so that his breaths grew shallow. His own cock was hard and aching now, begging to have more of Ivan in him.

“ _Khorosho, myshka…”_ Ivan groaned, his fingers threading through Yao’s hair, twisting it up and tugging slightly. “Good…”

Yao moaned and spread his legs further apart on the floor where he sat, desperately wishing that Ivan might completely lose control and mercilessly use Yao for his own pleasure. He felt the tip of Ivan’s cock hit the back of his throat, his gag muffled, and thought he might have finally gone mad because although he was choking he was in nothing short of bliss.

Ivan pulled out, murmuring his assurances and stroking Yao’s tousled hair away from his face. “You’re doing so well, so good… that’s it… come here…”

Yao pressed his lips feverishly to the palm of Ivan’s hand as he was pulled up onto the bed, kissing its softness and feeling his chest tighten at the thought of this momentary tenderness. The smooth of Ivan’s skin on his was addictive, felt better than anything he could have imagined, and with every exploratory press of Ivan’s lips on his body he could feel that his breaths were lighter, sweeter, too. He hadn’t felt weightlessness like this in a long time, if ever at all.

Ivan’s affections had almost stopped completely before Yao noticed he was slowing down. Leaning over him, hand still idly trailing over Yao’s throat, Ivan’s cold, misty eyes flitted between the features of his face, as if searching for something. His cool hand rested upon Yao’s chest. A tiny smile broke through. “I can almost hear your heart pounding, _myshka_.”

“I’ve been waiting a long time for this.”

“Have you…” Ivan chuckled as he leaned down, the hum of it caught in their kiss. And just then, Yao couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe without desperate want of Ivan inside him – pressing, demanding, claiming. It all came to him so suddenly, though he knew now how it had all been building up to this, that every lingering touch and glance held unspoken sentiment, that every bloodied creation for Ivan had been a perverted gift of courtship.

Yao wrapped himself entirely around Ivan, curling his legs around his waist and clutching his shoulder blades. The friction between them was almost too cruel, drawing little whimpers of need from Yao, and the first touch of Ivan’s cock against him nearly stole his breath; rubbing and pressing slightly into him, massaging the area in preparation before pressing in with a searing burn. Yao gasped at the intrusion, his fingertips pressing hard into Ivan’s shoulders as he felt the thickness of it push slowly and tortuously into him.

“Shhh… _khorosho_ , _myshka_ ,” Ivan murmured, his words uttered between captures of Yao’s parted lips. “Good, keep your legs open for me like that…”

Yao could only manage a desperate moan in response, reliving that first thrust when Ivan pulled out and pushed back in again, murmuring those sweet assurances once more. He could barely breath, barely keep his eyes open from the pleasure of being filled up by Ivan, of being fucked into like he was his toy. He wanted to be bruised by it all, to have it marked onto his skin.

He cried out when Ivan’s thrusts grew rough, fucking him hard into the mattress and biting at his throat. Ivan groaned and slowed the roll of his hips, taking Yao’s needy cock into his hands and pumping it. Yao arched his back and moaned, taken without warning by the overwhelming bliss that ran through his body, his legs trembling with pleasure. Ivan gripped Yao’s thighs bruisingly, thrusts now unhinged, pushing in deeper and harder as if in desperate want of something more, some visceral satisfaction of having claimed every last inch of Yao, until a gasp left his lips, and their bodies came to a near-stillness, silent.

Ivan collapsed next to him, head nestled into the crook of Yao’s throat. Nothing was said – only panting breaths, relieved lungs and content hums. Yao’s fingers wouldn’t stop shaking either. With a sudden nervousness, an anxiety that had come to settle in his stomach, Yao idly laced his trembling fingers together, braving a timid glance at Ivan.

Ivan chuckled. “ _Yaochka_ …”

Yao swallowed, something particularly affectionate about hearing his name used in such a way, rather than the usual tender “ _myshka”_. He felt the warmth of it in his chest, on his lips. Yet why was it that it all felt so damning – like new, cold shackles to his wrists? It all felt so precious to him, these still moments of theirs. And he realised then, at the concerned touch of Ivan’s hand to his temple, that in feeling every joyous emotion, every blissful second with him, he could foresee the pain that would come from losing it all.

***

_“And now?”_

_The question hung in the air, Yao’s heart beating hard in wait of the answer. Ivan sighed softly and tilted his head, as if re-evaluating him from this angle, from the light of the moon splashed across Yao’s yet to be bloodied body._

_"Now... you're different. But you’re still afraid of something, still…” Ivan’s gaze lingered a moment longer, and Yao felt certain he knew. They both knew._

_Ivan chuckled. “Never mind, myshka. I’m being foolish. You should get to work. I want to see what you’ve come up with this time.”_

_Yao smiled weakly, strange relief in his chest. Almost a strange comfort in returning to their business of cutting lives away like undesirable cattle. “Sure,” he said, turning to his collection of silver needles, which would sparkle like stars among the black of blood. “I think you’ll like it.”_

 


End file.
